The Timeless Appeal of Literature in Turbulent Times

In a world where attention spans are dwindling and information is bombarding us from all sides, people continue to seek out novels for comfort, solace, and insight. The recent unveiling of The Guardian’s list of the 100 best novels ever published in English has sparked a timely conversation about the enduring power of literature.

The poll, which saw over 170 authors, critics, and academics vote on the most significant works of fiction, aimed to identify novels that would resonate with new readers amidst the reading crisis. While some might argue that the list is a nostalgic exercise in literary canonization, the results suggest otherwise. The diversity of titles included – from classic 19th-century novels like Middlemarch to more recent works by authors such as Han Kang and Elena Ferrante – reflects a recognition that great literature can transcend time and genre.

The emphasis on older, 19th-century literature is particularly striking in these uncertain times. According to Kate Mosse, co-founder of the Women’s prizes, such books contain a wisdom that speaks directly to contemporary concerns about identity, community, and social change. This isn’t merely a case of readers seeking comfort in familiar narratives; rather, it reflects an appetite for stories that offer a deeper understanding of the world.

Middlemarch, with its portrayal of individuals caught up in the tumultuous early 19th century, is often cited as an exemplary work. By examining the lives of ordinary people navigating extraordinary circumstances, George Eliot’s novel provides a powerful reminder that our current crises are not new, but rather the cumulative result of historical forces.

This observation raises important questions about the relationship between literature and politics. If reading novels can offer insights into the human condition, why do politicians so often seem to be exempt from this experience? The recent exchange between Elif Shafak and Guy Gunaratne about their preferred books for politicians to read offers a revealing glimpse into this disconnect.

Shafak’s suggestion that Gilgamesh would be called a “loser” by Trump is a wry commentary on the way leaders often respond to complex ideas. Meanwhile, Gunaratne’s choice of Ali Smith’s Seasonal Quartet highlights the importance of nuanced storytelling in shaping our understanding of the world.

The list also sheds light on the ongoing debate about representation and diversity in literature. With 36 women featured this year, compared to just 16 in 2003, progress has been made – but there is still work to be done. The statistic that only 5% of GCSE students studied a novel or play by a female author in 2024 highlights the enduring legacy of sexism in education.

The conversation about literature and politics serves as a reminder of the transformative power of stories to dismantle our assumptions and challenge our biases. As Elif Shafak so eloquently put it, “literature dismantles those boxes, completely dismantles those dualities.” In an era where we’re constantly being pushed into narrow categories and expected to conform, the appeal of timeless literature is more relevant than ever.

As readers seek out stories that speak to our shared humanity, there’s a renewed emphasis on classic novels from 19th-century England alongside contemporary works by authors like Han Kang. This reminds us that literature has the power to connect us across time and space.

With the stakes higher than ever, it’s heartening to see that readers are still turning to novels for guidance, comfort, and inspiration – and that politicians would do well to follow suit.